a lesson in kitchen etiquette
by HaneGaNai
Summary: Who knew Peter hid master chef skills under his serial killer façade.
1. Chapter 1

Ever since the pack came together and became semi-functional Pack Dinners became a thing. They would all gather once or twice a week in the newly rebuilt Hale House and, depending on whose turn it was to cook, either demolished the food like there was no tomorrow or order take out for their own good. There was no in between. Not even werewolves could withstand the sorcery that was Isaac's cooking.

They had it all figured out until Peter fell back into favor with Derek and Scott and got signed into the rooster. With that their carefully crafted routine went to hell.

Who knew Peter hid master chef skills under his serial killer façade.

From then on it was mostly Peter who cooked for them though they were all rightfully wary at first. But the older wolf just dished one masterpiece after another making the pack fall for his skills. As far as devious plans go, that one would be just plain genius, but at that point they'd all be too heavy with all the weight they'd gain and wouldn't really care. Or so Stiles thought.

It was only natural for Stiles, who was pack favorite until Peter revealed himself as the second coming of Martha Stewart, to join him and help out with providing sustenance for the ever hungry wolves.

Working together was surprisingly easy. At first Stiles thought they might end up throwing knives at each other or sabotaging each other's dishes, but as it turned out they both actually treated the kitchen as a sacred area.

Stiles because of all the time he used to spend cooking with his mother. And Peter, well. Peter seemed got a kick out of it: experimenting with ingredients, putting together things Stiles would never even imagine would work together and making it all taste like a brush of heaven. It seemed to be the one place where Peter let most of his guards down and turned back to the man he was before the fire.

Sharing recipes and arguing about spices was a bizarre albeit a strangely pleasant experience. And in the rare moments that Stiles was honest with himself, he really liked cooking together with Peter. As they worked side by side he came to enjoy Peter's company and appreciate his brand of snark. He also learned quite a few kitchen secrets and things about Peter himself he doubted even Derek knew.

Nothing brought people closer than chopping onions together in Stiles' opinion.

Peter the cook, the Peter he was in the kitchen together with Stiles was somewhat gentler, happier, almost jovial. They still traded barbs, but it didn't leave Stiles with an unpleasant aftertaste anymore. _Au contraire_, he looked forwards to afternoons when it was just the two of them there, the pack only rolling in seconds before the food was served.

Quite obviously it wasn't the only times he and Peter spent working together. With every new crisis: new hunters in town, a choice monster or two he and the older werewolf poured over books. And as exhilarating as researching, learning and plotting was for Stiles it was nothing like poking around pots and pans and trying to sneak a taste of whatever it was Peter thought to cook that day.

Cooking came with less danger; it wasn't about finding answers and ways to kill. It wasn't about life and death. The thrill was there, but it came with the company and not the search. And wasn't that telling.

It took months to develop or maybe it has always been there and all they needed was all the time they spent together, little things triggering lingering aftereffects, buds nudged and nurtured into growing and blooming beautifully. A steady pace.

The transition from enemies to friends to more was so smooth that one moment Stiles was trying to coax a genuine laugh out of Peter with stories about his professors and classes and the next they were laughing together and he just knew. Watching Peter's eyes crinkle, seeing him loose and happy and _content_.

It wasn't scary to pluck the spatula out of Peter's hand; it wasn't nerves making his heart beat like a rabbit's as he caught Peter's chin between two fingers and tipped his head down. It was certainty, soft and easy and long-awaited and tasting of sugar and spice.


	2. Chapter 2

"Ow! Peter, what the fuck?!" Stiles hissed dropping the knife with another hissed curse and pushing the werewolf out of his way to get to the sink.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you." Peter crowded right behind him, hands firm on Stiles' hips as he leaned over to watch Stiles clean the wound.

Stiles scowled.

"And yet you thought creeping behind me and biting at my ear when I'm chopping vegetables is a safe life choice?" Stiles shut the water and wiped his hand dry with a paper towel. The cut on his forefinger wasn't deep, but blood still trickled from it.

"You know I didn't mean for you to get hurt." Peter placed a soft kiss right beneath Stiles' ear then easily pulled him away from the sink and turned him around. "Now show me the damage."

"'S fine, nothing to worry about. The cut isn't deep. All I need is a band aid and we can get back to work." Stiles said even as he let Peter lift his hand and prod at him with gentle fingers. "Just don't do it again and we'll be fine."

The werewolf just hummed at that and lifted Stiles' finger to his lips, brushing his lips over the cut.

"What are you doing?" Stiles asked, a little bewildered by the action.

"Kissing it better." Peter replied with a straight face.

"Are you serious right now?"

"Completely." Peter leaned in again, this time dragging his tongue over the wound, his eyes devious and firm on Stiles. "Is it working?"

"You're a menace." Stiles laughed and tried tugging his hand out of Peter's grasp. Peter obviously had other things in mind.

The older man lapped at Stiles' forefinger for a moment with long, lazy licks getting it thoroughly wet. Stiles knew he should find all the spit disgusting, but he found it _incredibly hot_ instead. And judging by the devious smirk he wore Peter was aware of the way it worked on him

"Peter, c'mon." Stiles whined and attempted to free himself again, but Peter wouldn't budge. On the contrary, he went as far as to nibble on the tip of Stiles' finger. Stiles couldn't help the groan. "_Peter. _The pack will be here in an hour and we hardly even started on dinner."

"We can order in." The werewolf proposed and _fucking sucked Stiles' finger into his mouth_ and who does that in the middle of a conversation-

"_Fuck._" He hissed and bit down on his lower lip. He might have an oral fixation himself, but the things Peter could do with his damn _mouth_. "Please, we'll continue after dinner. I'm not having sex in the kitchen again. The others wouldn't stop bitching about how we stunk up all the food."

Peter plucked his finger out with a wet pop and licked his lips. He pressed Stiles back against the counter and instantly his hands wormed their way under Stiles' skin. "We'll just call them and cancel dinner. Tell them you're not feeling well and I have to nurse you back to health."

Stiles couldn't help, but snort at that. He knew exactly the brand of _nursing_ Peter preferred. But whatever protest he had died on his tongue the moment Peter closed the gap between their mouths and _nipped._

Peter knew all to what buttons to push to lead him down the dark path, but Stiles couldn't really complain.


End file.
